Blog Post incl Intro, Exclusive Excerpts & Giveaway: CF White – The District Line Series

A warm welcome to author CF White joining us today to talk about her District Line series. Celebrating the release of book 3 in the series “Come Back”.
CF shares exclusive excerpts with us of all three books and also brought a giveaway for our readers!
Welcome CF 🙂

 

Hi, and thanks so much for having me over on Love Bytes! I’m here to give you an exclusive look into my latest completed series—The District Line, which consists of Kick Off, Break Through and Come Back. All are now available to purchase from Amazon or read for free in Kindle Unlimited. They will also be available as a boxset very soon, if not by the time you are reading this 😊

The District Line series follows the relationship between an east Londoner making it as a professional footballer (that’s soccer to those in the US) and a west London elite trying to ditch his suffocating birth right to make it as a rock star. Already separated by wealth, status and family traditions, Jay Ruttman and Sebastian Saunders have the odds stacked against them but not more so than their own determination to achieve their life-long dreams.

Crashing head first into each other on page one, this “emotional and intense” (Amazon Reviewer) contemporary gay romance series is about overcoming barriers, facing fears and fighting for what’s right, what’s true and what’s important—love.

Read on for the blurbs of each book and an exclusive excerpt that can’t be read anywhere else!

Kick Off (The District Line #1)

What happens when opposite sides of the track collide? East Londoner Jay Ruttman has only ever wanted one thing― to be a professional footballer. But after a disastrous brawl on the pitch gets him released from his pro-Academy, he has to follow plan B and enrolls as university Sports Scholar. Head down, train hard and get scouted is his motto. Until he crashes into the man who might just shoot his dreams out of the park. Kensington elite Sebastian (Seb) Saunders has only ever wanted one thing―to be a rock star. But his father has other plans for him, including taking the helm of his multimillion-pound new business venture across the pond. Live it up, chase the dream and rock out for as long as he can is his mantra. Until he crashes into the man who might just rock his world off its scale. Jay and Seb live at opposite ends of London’s District Line, separated by wealth, status, family traditions and their own life-long dreams. This startling and gritty contemporary romance series sees them both having to overcome barriers, face fears and beat rejection to fight for the love they need to achieve it all.

 

Jay rolled over onto his side, bed sheets crumpling around him. It took him a moment to realise his mobile had been vibrating on his bedside table. He untangled an arm from the sheets and hit the light on his digital alarm clock. 1:07a.m. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he checked the display. He instantly hit Answer. “All right?”

“Hey.” Seb’s soft voice crackled through the speaker. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s one in the morning, Seb. Course you woke me. Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry.” Seb hesitated, his voice slurred and hushed. “I had a shit night. Couldn’t sleep.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Jay rubbed his free hand over his eyes and sat against the cool wall.

“Not really.”

The low rumble of a car engine rushing past Jay’s bedroom window reverberated through the receiver of his phone.

“Where are you?”

“Um, well, I’m sort of outside your house.” Seb chuckled. “But not, like, in a stalkery way.”

Jay dragged back the covers and bounded over to his window. He spotted Seb, phone in hand, on the other side of the road, perched on the wall of the concrete playground. He glanced up to Jay and smiled, awkwardly.

“Wait a sec.” Jay shuffled away from the window and hung up, throwing the mobile down onto his bedside table. Desperately searching his bedroom for something to wear, he found a pair of loose grey jogging bottoms and yanked them over the boxers he’d worn to bed. Keeping on the thin T-shirt he’d been sleeping in, he tucked his bare feet into the nearest trainers he could find and clicked open the door to his room. He crept downstairs and out of the front door into the street.

“Hey, Champ.”

“You okay?” Jay shivered at the biting cold.

Seb’s eyes were bloodshot and cigarette butts dusted the pavement by his feet. “Shit night.” He shrugged, barely looking Jay in the eye. “Guess I can’t sleep without a goodnight kiss anymore.”

Jay melted at the gentle words. Stepping forward, he ran a hand through the crunchy tassels of Seb’s hair and planted a delicate kiss to his lips. Seb deepened it, and his eyes filled with tears. On breaking apart, Seb buried his face in Jay’s neck, leaving a trail of moisture on his skin.

Startled at the unprecedented vulnerable display, Jay curled his arms around Seb and squeezed, rubbing one hand in smooth circles along the nape of Seb’s neck. “Talk to me,” he whispered. “What happened?”

Seb pulled away. “Can we not talk? And you just kiss me like that again?”

Jay tilted his head to the side and moved in to do just that. Tears fell from Seb’s eyes, sliding onto Jay’s cheek as their lips moved fluidly together. Jay stroked Seb’s arm, trailing his hand down to take hold of Seb’s. He broke the kiss and tugged Seb with him to cross the road.

“What about your parents?” Seb asked, not quite moving but not resisting either.

“They’re sparko. And they both go to work early doors.” He stopped at his front door. “I ain’t letting you leave. I can smell the alcohol and taste the smoke. You ain’t gotta tell me what happened, but you are gonna let me hold you.”

mybook.to/KickOff-DistrictLine

Amazon.com

 

Break Through (The District Line #2)

Should falling in love really get in the way of your lifelong dreams? Sebastian Saunders is 3000 miles away from home. Working for his father’s expanded business in New York, he’s left behind the music career he craved, the friends he relied upon and possibly the love of his life. In a city that never sleeps, how can the nights cure a broken heart? Jay Ruttman is in London, throwing himself harder into football and his quest to make it on the professional playing field. Locking himself back in the closet, how can he ever open the door, and his heart, again? A chance encounter in New York where Jay and Seb rekindle their lost romance sets them both on a path to self-discovery and coming to terms with their past, their present and their future. This is the second part of the District Line serial, where half-time oranges are swapped for the Big Apple.

 

Jay cleared his throat, pressing down the brass handle and as he opened the door, Seb whipped his head up from the computer with a firm scowl across his lips.

“I know I ain’t on that special list of yours.” Jay’s heart beat a little faster as Seb’s gaze finally met his. “But I sorta hoped that was an oversight on your part.”

Seb blinked. “Jay?”

Jay smiled. That look. He then angled his head back to Natalie peering in through the doorway. “I’ve given your receptionist five grand to be able to come in here and she not get the can. Don’t make me lose that cash. It’s all I got ‘til I get home.”

Seb’s mouth fell open. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, as if he were frozen to the spot. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Natalie?”

“Yes, sir? I’m sorry, sir—”

“Close the door behind Mr. Ruttman, please, and divert all calls to the shitbag. I’m no longer available for the rest of the night.”

Jay’s smile grew, his cheeks hurting.

“Yes, sir. No problem, sir, and by shitbag I assume you mean Mr. Coles?”

“That’s right, Natalie. Thank you. Oh, and Natalie?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Mr. Ruttman would like his money back.”

“Oh right, yes, sir.” Natalie handed the envelope back to Jay and closed the door behind her swift exit.

Tucking the envelope into his inside jacket pocket, Jay’s stomach fluttered unbearably as Seb’s impenetrable brown doe-eyed stare landed on him.

“Now, Rutters, you best tell me how the fuck you are here.” Seb stood, his chair rolling away on its wheels. “As I am hoping to fuck this isn’t some dream. Because if it is, I don’t want to wake up.”

Jay smiled, his chest rising. “I made pro. West Ham. We’re playing the New York Red Bulls tomorra for a pre-season friendly.” He shrugged. “Thought I’d check you out while in the area. Rude not to. I’m actually skiving training to be here, which’ll probably land me back on the bench.”

“Fuck,” Seb breathed out, shaking his head as he smiled. “That fucking accent.”

“Fancy hearin’ some more? If you ain’t busy?” He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “Might even say Babs for ya.”

Seb laughed, then switched his computer off at the mains. “Well, in that case.” He scooted around the desk and loosened the knot on his silk tie. “I better make this little rebellious stint of yours worth the while.”

Jay reached out, delicately brushing his fingers over Seb’s to prevent him ripping the tie off altogether. “Leave it.” He roamed his gaze up and down Seb’s suited attire. “Quite like it.”

Seb cocked his head. “Whatever you want, Champ.”

mybook.to/BreakThrough

 Amazon.com

Come Back (The District Line #3)

The bigger you become, the harder you fall. Sebastian Saunders is a rising rock star. Jay Ruttman is a Premier League football player. Their year-long relationship is hot commodity. Hounded by the press and fans alike, the lovers struggle to keep their private lives private. Flying high in the charts and having Jay by his side, Seb is finally living his dream. But Jay’s new, promising career is threatened when a horrific injury on the pitch has him side lined—not only in the game but also in his relationship with Seb. Jay’s crippling self-destruction spirals out of control, tearing them apart. To move forward, both men must learn to leave their past behind—not so easy when it keeps coming back to haunt them. Can their hard-fought relationship survive the ultimate test? This is the concluding part to the District Line series where the full-time whistle could signal an end to their turbulent journey… or is it just the beginning?

 

The crowd went wild. Just the way Seb liked them.

The screams, the whistles, the thunderous applause and, not to mention, the outbreak of a fight below adding to the hedonistic thrill that Seb lapped up like liquor and nicotine. To be fair, a Drops gig was never complete without the security guards working for their money by having to break up a mosh pit brawl or two. Or three, or four. And this lot were currently working pretty damn hard for their hefty contract fee.

Seb stood, front centre stage, and slung his modified custom-designed metallic red-wine Gibson over his neck by its strap and settled it at hip height. His heart thumped in sync with the pounding of Hunter wellington boots stamping in the soggy mud. Martin to his left, jet-black hair spiked up with streaks of deep blue gleaming off the spotlights, tinkered with his Jaguar bass and Noah, his dirty blond hair shaved down to a buzz cut and with a new bolt eyebrow piercing, lifted his sticks in the air at the ready behind his burgundy-red SJC full custom drum kit. The three-piece emulated the live version of their latest album cover—the perfected image of a rock ensemble; the one Seb had spent the best part of six years creating. Except Seb couldn’t hold his usual morose expression he plastered on for the press photos. Instead, he grinned. Widely. He kinda wished he could take a picture of the moment. On his new iPhone camera. Like the fifty-thousand-strong audience were obviously doing as the flashes flickered before his eyes. Hopefully he’d get a squizz at some of the pictures later. Thank fuck for social media.

The spring and summer gigging circuit, with a few small-town festivals thrown in for good measure, could never have prepared him for this. Several hundred people swarmed to the front of the barriers, arms flailing over to reach him but batted off by the dozens of fluorescent-jacketed men. The hammering late-summer rain hadn’t scared the fans off, so Seb doubted the beefy guards were going to either. During the years he’d been on the other side of the gates, he hadn’t been dissuaded to clamber over and cop a feel of those that he idolised, so he shouldn’t let the ones who were testing the boundaries of the best spot on the field—front row at the V Stage—depart home without a lasting memento. Crouching, he swung his guitar behind him and leaned forward to grab a few hands. This was fucking aces. This was everything he’d dreamed about since the age of sixteen and then some. This is awesome as fuck.

Leaving them all to scream, faint and whatever else they did after touching their idol’s flesh, he settled back to his starting position, gazed out at the sea of bodies and inhaled a flurried breath. Now for the hard part. Because this was it. They’d made it to V Fest as headliners. All those years’ hard slog, and Seb’s dream had come true. The screams, the cheers, the throwing of bottle caps through the crowd were all for him. And he fucking loved every second of it.

He kept the fans waiting, though. Shrugging, teasing his fingers over his guitar strings, adjusting the microphone, then finally turned his back on the crowd. Let them work for it. Smiling, Seb nodded to the others. Noah struck up with a cymbal crash that elevated the shrieks from the mosh pit and the kick drum thumped through Seb’s feet to vibrate the tips of his fingers. Martin plucked his strings, rocking the introductory bass line that rumbled through Seb’s entire body, reconfirming why Seb lived for these moments.

Seb swivelled, his lips finding the microphone. He opened his mouth, but the whistles from the crowd drowned him out. Laughing, his breath blew out of the festival sound system as if it were the gale force wind predicted to hit the Essex countryside shortly. He stopped, stepped back and checked his watch. Slapping his arms down to his side, the metal wriggled back over the Chinese symbol tattooed on his wrist.

“Anyone know the score?” Seb’s voice boomed around the five hundred acres of field land.

Screams. Whistles. Catcalls.

“No?” Seb fished out his phone from his back skinny jeans pocket. A couple of swipes and the brand-new iPhone illuminated his face. This miracle of 3G shit was awesome, and a fucking necessity now he came to think about it. How had he coped before not being able to get the net on his phone? But, bollocks. Sighing, he leaned into the microphone.  “Nil nil.” He lined up his fingers to the tune of Martin’s bass line, then strummed the A chord. “Come on, Rutters!”

The crowd roared. And Seb awarded them with the latest tune to have hit number one in the indie rock charts. The response from the waves of fans was as satisfying as his boyfriend’s response to that morning’s vigorous sex session. A summer mostly apart, and without the pull of football, had rejuvenated their relationship and he didn’t even care that he’d broken their cardinal rule by mentioning Jay’s name out loud again.

Because Seb was on top. Like he’d also been that morning.

mybook.to/ComeBackDistrictLine3

Amazon.com

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave.

 

Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly search for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.

 

She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.

 

After her second son was born with a rare disability, C F White’s life changed and brought pen back to paper having written stories as a child but never the confidence to show them to the world. Now, having embarked on this writing journey, she can’t stop. So strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

 

Follow C F White:

https://twitter.com/CFWhiteUK

Facebook/CFWhite

www.cfwhiteauthor.com

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Books by C F White

Responsible Adult Serial (Pride Publishing)

Misdemeanor (Responsible Adult #1)

Hard Time (Responsible Adult #2)

Reformed (Responsible Adult #3)

 

St. Cross Series (Pride Publishing)

Won’t Feel A Thing (St. Cross #1)

The District Line Serial (KU

Kick Off

Break Through

Come Back